Harvest
by Shipperwolf
Summary: Sometimes savagery is a choice. Sometimes it's a nature. For him, it becomes both. A somewhat dark, somewhat supernatural Caryl AU (WIP).
1. Chapter 1

**Hiya readers!**

**So here's the first chapter of yet ANOTHER Caryl AU I've been mulling about for...literally _months_.**

**I have to say it's already taking a life of its own, and while I have some ideas stored away for future chapters, this seems to be another one of those "just wingin' it" fics. (Here's a heart-cruncher: Most of my fics are written this way.)**

**Also I apparently like the flashback thing I started doing with _Grey_, and I can already tell you that this fic is probably going to have a LOT more of them. So...just forwarning on that.**

**Also, I disclaim all the things, as I usually do, because I don't want to get sued because I don't have any money. **

**Enjoy guys!**

* * *

_They ran._

_So hard and so fast, that the air in his lungs had turned to fire and his chest felt bruised from the effort of inhaling his next breath._

_His legs felt like rubber, weak and wobbly even as he jumped the fallen trees and jutting roots to keep pace with the man ahead of him._

_He kept running long after they'd lost sight of her, long after her terrified cries had echoed away from their ability to hear._

_He kept running despite the howls in the distance behind them, the gunshots cracking in response and the occasional roar on the wind ahead._

_He kept running when Rick slowed enough to look back at him, and the look on his face was one of hopelessness, of resolution to what they knew had probably already happened._

_Daryl kept running, heaving, the bow on his back smacking into his spine with every step, the rifle in his hands growing hot and slippery with his sweat._

_He knew what they would find, if they actually caught up to the pack that had taken her._

_He knew._

_He just didn't want to admit it._

* * *

A scream jerked him awake.

He stiffened, eyesight instantly adjusting to the darkness around him. He had finally settled down on top of the RV, fallen asleep as Dale took over watch.

Daryl peered at the man holding the rifle, looking back at him with concerned eyes.

Not Dale.

Rick had taken his place at some point.

_And he hadn't even heard them move._

"You hear that?" his question had Rick cocking his head in confusion, looking around the caravan before turning back to him and shaking his head.

"Hear what?"

Daryl stilled, holding up a hand and listening to the sounds of the woods nearby.

He inhaled, deep, smelled the dirt and grass, bark and leaves, the pungent odors that signaled something living…rabbits and squirrels, mice and moles…

He heard them in the trees, heard the tiny squeaks and rustles they made as they foraged in the relative safety of the thick brush around them.

No screams.

No human scents aside from those of the group…

He frowned.

"Nothin'. Think I was dreamin' it."

Rick held his eyes in the eerie light of the lamp nearby, and Daryl caught the sympathy that flashed in them before he turned away and raised his rifle, peering through the scope to look down the highway as if he'd seen something.

Daryl chewed his lip and watched quietly.

There was nothing out there to look at.

But Rick didn't want to ask him what he'd been dreaming about.

Daryl was sure he could already guess.

* * *

_The sun had gone down but a strange, red glow surrounded them as they broke past the thick forest into patchy, open spaces. Daryl looked up to find the giant, blood-orange moon rising over the trees._

_He glanced at Rick and they kept moving, the snarls ahead getting louder, closer…_

_They stopped short as the suffocating stench of blood and entrails practically punched them in the face._

_Daryl felt his head swim as the light above cast down on the small pack they'd been chasing._

_And the girl they'd taken as their prey._

_Rick stumbled backwards next to him, a hand flying up to cover his mouth as he suddenly doubled over, gagging into the field beneath their feet._

_It was like something out of a goddamn horror movie, a nightmare he couldn't wake up from no matter how hard he pinched himself._

_Daryl swallowed thickly. His head swam again._

_The monsters in front of them stopped their feasting at the sound of Rick's wretching and the crimson moonlight glinted against the blackish sheen of blood on their exposed teeth._

_He clenched his jaw tight against his own reflex to vomit and raised his gun._

"_Fucking pieces of—"_

_He fired._

* * *

The sun rose on Daryl and Rick sitting in silence atop the Winnebago, and the chirping of birds accompanied the sounds of movement beneath their butts.

The door to the RV creaked open and he peered over the side to find Carol sliding out, the younger Green daughter not far behind. The little blond hopped a bit as she stepped on a rock on the asphalt, and Carol reached forward to steady her before pointing the girl back into the RV to fetch her shoes.

Beth re-entered as Lori came out, bulging belly cradled in both hands.

Daryl instinctively sniffed the air and could smell something strange around the woman: not quite blood, but something close.

Something that told him that baby wouldn't be long in coming.

Dale and T-Dog emerged from one of the trucks behind them, and Daryl nodded their way in greeting. He'd come to respect the old man for more than one reason over the many months they'd been on the road, one of which being that Dale had willingly given up his precious RV to the women, letting them take most of the comfort and shelter to be had in their little camp.

Out of another car came Glenn and Maggie, shoulders brushing with every step they took.

Daryl watched the farmgirl squeeze Glenn's hand and stare at the rising sun soberly.

The Greene sisters had lost just about everything months back, and it was, to an extent, _their_ fault. Drama had turned to dumbass decisions which had turned to dangerous situations and saw their farm and family paying every price to be paid.

But as with all of the fuck-ups to fall on their haphazard little family, they all chose to move on and push forward rather than play the blame-game.

Daryl figured Rick'd had more than enough of that to last him a lifetime.

To a lesser degree, he had too.

* * *

_He was scrambling away, legs pulsing with pain and the rapid gunshots behind him were being lost to the burn in his blood. Roars and a shout repeated in his ears but he couldn't find the source of either._

_Everything around him was red, red, red, and the pain was spreading._

_He'd been bitten, torn into hard, and he knew it._

_He didn't know where he was going, but at some point he'd dropped his gun and just started moving, a panic in his brain telling him to get away, get away, before the burning blood went wild._

_Leaves flew into his face but he couldn't feel them. _

_His skin was getting tight. His face was hot and an ache was setting into his bones._

_He struggled to catch his breath, and he tripped on a limb just as he broke out of the woods into a dark, quiet field._

_Daryl lifted his head from the soft grass beneath him and heaved._

_Bile rose in his throat and he just barely recognized the shadowed form of a barn before the field he lay in turned upside-down and the world went dark._

* * *

**A/N: So I like Dale okay. Dale apparently can't die in my AU's. He just DOESN'T. He's just THERE because he CAN'T die because REASONS okay.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Getting a bit of slow start here, guys, but please be patient!**

**Apologies for the short chapter; it's the curse of the Shipperwolf o.o**

**Enjoy, and let me know what ya'll think so far!**

* * *

They kept to the highway, sticking together in small groups as they foraged around the abandoned cars. He could smell months-old rot in the vehicles as he passed them by, stinging his nostrils and preventing him from picking up on much of anything that could be considered edible.

Carol and T hovered behind him, checking the cars he paused at.

Daryl did not let his gaze linger on the mauled remnants of people hanging out the doors. He looked away when a severed leg, rotten down to the bone, came tumbling out of the station wagon Carol opened beside him.

Long since over whatever uneasiness she'd had with such things, the woman pushed the body aside and pulled out the large suitcase that was stuffed between it and the seat.

It clunked heavily onto the pavement and she unceremoniously dropped to her knees, rifle hanging loose off her back as she unzipped it to begin searching.

Daryl noted T-Dog looking at a truck nearby, looked past him to see Rick watching Lori and Carl close as they wandered their way closer to where they'd all left their own vehicles.

"No food, looks like. A lot of clothes though, and-" Carol's voice trailed below him, and Daryl looked down and tensed as she pulled out a very old-looking cloth doll.

As she stared, he could feel the air around them get thicker. His own throat clenched and he could smell the slightest hint of salt.

He moved quickly, on instinct, coming to rest a hand on her shoulder to grab her attention.

She dropped the doll on the dirty road, moved fast to zip up the suitcase with a quiet rigidity.

Looked up at him, dry-eyed, before standing, adjusting her rifle, and pulling the handle of the case up toward him.

"Thing's pretty heavy. A lot of good clothes in here. Grab it for me?"

When she smiled, he caught the flash of sadness in her gaze.

Reaching down he brushed her fingers with his as he took the handle and lifted the case with weightless ease.

"Let's finish up here."

* * *

_When he woke up, it was to a dim haze of low growls, stinking, dead flesh, and a constant, all-consuming agony._

_Daryl ignored the burning of his skin and muscles, the steady, throbbing ache in his pulses and bones, and reacted instead to the panic of captivity, the clank of chains wrapped around his entire body weighing him down, keeping him confined to a small, dark space._

_He forced back a shout of anger, a whine of pain and took in his surroundings. _

_The building he was in was dark, but the grayish-yellow of the setting sun through the wooden cracks of the walls, coupled with the barely-recognizable smell of hay told him he was in a barn._

_He made the mistake of inhaling, just to be sure._

_Daryl vomited instantly, the overwhelming stench of death, blood, and feces assaulting him and destroying his ability to control his stomach._

_And then he heard the growls._

_He froze._

_Crawled on his hands and knees, backwards, away from the similarly chained creatures that stood, crouched and lay across the barn from him. His back hit the thick wooden beam he was attached to and he heaved, the growls and snarls building in volume until he could hear nothing else, __imagine__ nothing else, and the pain, searing now, caused him to double over onto the dirt floor and gag in desperation._

* * *

He set the suitcase on the small table in the RV for Carol and the other women to rifle through, Carol herself coming in behind him to quietly squeeze past him to the bathroom. When she closed the door without so much as a look his way, he stood awkwardly, waited for the sound and smell of her actually _using_ the toilet, and slipped down into the little booth surrounding the table to wait for her to emerge.

A few seconds later, the scent of urine dissipated and Carol came out, looked up from the floor at him with a blink of surprise.

Outside, Rick was gathering the others to get dinner prepared as quickly as possible so they could move on for the day.

When Carol craned her head questioningly, he inhaled deep, smelled the sweat on her skin, the smoke from their breakfast fire, and the twinge of anxiety that seemed to seep from her pores.

He jerked his head upward, wetting his lips before rasping out,

"Gonna take watch while I eat. Wanna join me?"

He felt his breath release from his lungs with an achy shudder when she smiled at him again, much softer and wider than she had on the road. She relaxed visibly, reached down to pick up her rifle from its place propped against the counter.

"Sounds good."


	3. Chapter 3

**Another update to this wicked little AU; there are still a lot of unanswered questions, but I hope the flow of the story is okay so far. Please let me know!**

* * *

She hovered close as they ate in comfortable silence on top of the Winnebago. Daryl glanced her way a few times, watched the slow movements of her lips as she chewed her food.

He noticed things like that much faster and easier now than he had…_before_.

Just like he could smell the water from the stream a mile away, spot the single ant crawling across the pavement some nine feet below them, hear the low growl on the wind as it carried to his ears from deep within the woods nearby—

He jolted, nearly dropped his plate as he jumped to his feet and whirled about to face the woods.

"Daryl? What is it?"

Carol questioned him, but he suspected she already knew what had him leaning forward off the edge of the RV's roof, fists curling and teeth grinding as a very familiar _itch_ sent his skin crawling from scalp to soles.

The moment he'd moved the group froze below him, Rick stepping forward towards the vehicle only once to look up and watch him.

Daryl could see the man slowly reach for the pistol at his hip from his periphery.

Another guttural hum whispered to his ears from deep inside the forest, and his body shuddered.

The hairs on his neck stood on end.

So did the ones on his arms.

For a single second in time he felt the burning strike of heat and rage, an instinctive chaos that threatened to drive him into a permanent state of insanity. Tiny pin-pricks bit into his palms as he clenched his fists tighter, the pain growing as his nails grew harder, longer, sharper…

He heaved for breath, once, twice, and felt a growl stir deep in his chest…

"Daryl…" Carol whispered just behind him, and the world sharpened just enough for him to blink away from the overgrowth of trees he stared into.

He looked back to find her face just over his shoulder, endless blue eyes boring into his own.

She gave him a look that straddled the line between concern and warning, and he broke the gaze to look down at Rick.

As the trees groaned deeper before them, he had only to nod once, and Rick threw a hand into the air, signaling the group to pack up camp.

And fast.

* * *

"_God…dammit…no…"_

_Was he talking?_

_His lips moved. He heard something come out. The monsters across the barn snarled loudly in response. He was pulling hard against the chains now, chest buried in the hay beneath him, writhing one way, then the other._

_Pulling, twisting, jerking._

_The chains held strong._

_The burn in his muscles was worse than the itching of his skin, but not nearly as painful as the overwhelming ache of his bones. The low light in the building sent shadows spiraling around him, and Daryl realized he could no longer focus his vision on any one thing._

"_AH, GODDAMMIT!"_

_He was screaming now._

_Shouting._

_No._

_No._

_NO._

_Something popped._

_It hurt only slightly in comparison to everything else he was feeling, but the noise was something that sent his stomach lurching again. Nausea hit him with a vengeance as another sickening pop had him sinking onto the dirty barn floor and turning over onto his back, the chains curling around his body with him._

_He fought to flatten his feet against the dirt. Push against the chains one more time…_

_He couldn't._

_His feet wouldn't straighten, wouldn't flatten, they were…_

_Another pop. A grind. A snap._

_Pain._

_Pain._

_Fire._

Panic_._

"_Fuck, fuck, _fuck_!"_

_He vomited into the air above him and smelled blood._

_Growls echoed in his head along with his own relentless screaming, and then he was gone._

* * *

They drove. Daryl watched T-Dog from the corner of his eye as the other man followed the caravan down the highway, and did not miss the slow, exhausted blink as he tried to focus on the road.

Shifting in his seat, Daryl straightened and breathed deep. His nerves had finally settled an hour or so after they left, but he knew they would need to stop again soon, find a place to settle for the night.

Another gas run probably wouldn't hurt, either.

"Hey, give a honk."

T-Dog glanced over at him tiredly, seemed to grin a bit despite the mood he was putting off.

"Sure. You get to drive next. I need a nap, man."

Daryl flashed a grin in response and T honked his horn to stop the truck and SUV ahead of them. The RV groaned to a stop behind as they all slowed in unison.

Slipping from the car he met Rick halfway, saw Glenn step out of the truck and eye him curiously.

Rick jerked his head and their eyes met,

"Gonna need another gas run. And soon."

Rick nodded, eyes narrowing over the line of vehicles now parked on the side of the road.

"Don't have much light left today. Got enough to get us all another half hour of drivin'. We need a safe place to stay tonight."

The break in Rick's voice had Daryl craning his head, picking up on the unease that suddenly set in the man.

He glanced at the SUV.

"Lori?"

Rick nodded again. Sighed.

"We gotta find a place, Daryl. Can't just keep running. They're widespread now, runnin' in smaller packs. But we can't keep it up. Not like this."

The smell of salt in the air sent a twitch into Daryl's eye.

Almost-blood. Something else.

Lori.

Goddamn the baby was closing in.

"'Kay, another half hour, then? We'll stop on the road again. Maybe siphon some more fuel wherever we stop…"

Another quiet nod and Rick broke from their two-man huddle, and Glenn met Daryl's gaze from his place next to the truck.

"What's the word?"

"Keep movin' fer now. Let's go…"

He ignored the tired exhale he heard slip from Glenn's chest and climbed into the driver's seat of the car.

Beside him, T-Dog was already dozing.

* * *

_Everything was noise and movement._

_And yet, it was still._

_He was calm._

_But he wasn't._

_Every breath they took was a clap of thunder to his ears._

_Every creak of the wood around them seemed to echo._

_A low murmur grew louder from just outside the door, and he thought he knew the sound._

_Voices._

_People._

_He could hear them. He could feel their steps on the ground. He could smell their sweat…_

_And just like that, he needed to eat._

_They growled around him like a smothering fog, and the coiling, slithering urge to bite, tear, pull, push, eat, eat, eat, pumped into his muscles and God, he didn't even know who he was, or where, or _what_…._

_Something moved._

_The wood creaked louder._

_Heat pooled into his stomach and a voice said something he thought he knew…_

_His skin itched and he blinked down at the matted, bloody mess of black fur that coated him. The taste of bile in his throat registered as his mouth gaped open and his tongue met teeth too large and too sharp to be his own…_

_The doors to the barn opened._

_And Daryl roared._


	4. Chapter 4

**Another update guys!****  
**

**This one is mostly flashback, and there will probably be more like it to come. But it shouldn't take too very long to get everything caught up and running together smoothly (I hope)! **

* * *

_Dirt filled his mouth when he woke. _

_Roars, snarls, growls, and a godawful voice screaming some kind of incoherent babble sent a sharp pain jolting through his ears and setting a very powerful headache into his temples._

_Daryl rose to his knees, the rattle of the chains nearly silent in the midst of the insane noise around him. He felt nauseous again, hungry and yet…_not_. He tried to spit the dry hay and dirt from his mouth, felt the headache get worse from the effort. _

_Taking a moment to breathe and gather himself, he looked around._

_He couldn't remember when he passed out, or exactly what had happened just before…_

_But he did remember the fucking tsunami of pain that changed him from human to monster, and he remembered how he'd felt the hunger set in shortly after. Just as he remembered the barn he was being held in, and how he'd even gotten bitten in the first place._

_The image of the girl, Sophia Peletier, torn to fucking shreds and being devoured right in front of him was something he would never, _ever_ forget…_

_Daryl bent over and gagged, only once, before clutching at his ears as the noise from the others seemed to suddenly get louder._

_Glancing over at them, he could see that several were fully turned, pulling aggressively against their own chains, maws clacking together as they snapped his way. Others were frantically digging into the hay, half-wolf and half-human, some drooling all over themselves as they fished mice from the barn floor and tore into them viciously. The constant screaming came from a naked man in their midst, dirt covering most of his body and his nails black and extended, scratching madly at himself as he tugged against his binds and screamed at nothing. The man looked at him, green eyes wide and dilated as his screams suddenly mixed with guttural growls._

_Daryl backed up against the post he was chained to and looked down at himself. His clothes were shredded around him, his skin caked with dry blood and filth. _

_Lifting his hands he could see the black of his nails, their edges unnaturally sharp but shorter than what he remembered…._

_His muscles screamed and burned suddenly as the barn doors opened again, and an old man walked in, rifle in one hand and a bucket in the other._

_The moment the man crossed the threshold of the doorway the wolves turned their attention to him, reaching out and roaring. Two of the half-turned finished their transformations, never pausing in their attempt to get to him. Daryl watched as a woman, young and pretty, strode in behind him, two more buckets weighing her arms down. _

_The sharp tang of blood hit his nose and without warning, drool pooled from the side of his mouth. His eyes lost focus as the man and girl tossed bloody bits of wild game onto the barn floor, and his headache and nausea disappeared completely as the desperate hunger he'd felt the time before quickly overwhelmed him. _

_Daryl grit his teeth when a dead squirrel landed in the hay next to him._

_His chest heaved and his pulse pounded into his ears and he opened his mouth to cuss the man out loud and instead doubled forward onto the carcass like a man starved, darkness tunneling his eyes as the taste of metal met his tongue…_

* * *

He sucked down the water in three long gulps, emptying the glass Carol had offered him. She hefted the rifle over her shoulder and took it back from him to refill it, half-smiling as she turned to head back to the truck—

"I'm a'ight. Save the rest for the others."

The chill of the air was starting to ebb away, springtime trying to force its way through the dry, dead winter. A sweat had broken out onto his brow after a quick scout of their latest stopping point and Carol had quickly responded.

He frowned at how she seemed to worry over him sometimes, as if it were embedded into her, as if it were an _instinct_.

It was supposed to be the other way around…

* * *

_His vision sharpened on the shining metal of a very familiar pistol pointed at his face._

_Daryl felt a tremor run through his muscles, the world seeming to reawaken around him and the gutted remains of the little critter in his hand was forgotten when he instantly recognized both the sudden threat to his life and the person wielding it._

_He struggled to hold in the rattling growl that tried to vibrate its way through his chest, focus on the face of the man now staring sadly, soberly down at him._

_He breathed heavy, baring his teeth and feeling his jaw clench in response._

_The old man, now alone and bucketless, watched on from the doorway, hesitant._

_Rick swayed over him slightly, blinking erratically before sighing._

_His hand lowered by an inch and his eyes darted to the side._

_Daryl sneered up at him, let out a sharp snarl as he reached up, heavy chains weightless as he grasped the man's wrist and pulled the gun's barrel to his forehead,_

"_Go on, then. _Do it_."_

_Rick jerked back, mouth open, the man behind him visibly surprised and rushing forward with wide eyes._

_The pistol was nearly dropped to the barn floor and Rick glanced over at the others, still growling and snapping madly, before staring down at him in confusion._

"_Daryl…you know who I am?"_

_Daryl looked down at the desecrated animal he'd been eating and felt the room spin a little. He looked up at the old man, eyes strangely hopeful, over at the monsters that had long since lost their minds to whatever curse or disease or fucked-up experiment had turned the world upside-down, grinning derisively and meeting Rick's shadowed blue gaze,_

"'_Course. Yer the man that's gonna end this fuckin' nightmare for me."_


End file.
